Reciprocated. | Yandere! Loser x Yandere! Male Reader
! MDNI !
Request
Pairing : Yandere! Unpopular Admirer OC x Yandere! Popular Male Reader
Content Warning/s : general yandere behaviour, stealing of undergarments, jerking off in said stolen garment, stalking, unhealthy obsession
Author's Note : I'll make a part 2 for the smut chapter of this fic another time. enjoy reading !
request/asks
The natatorium was filled with loud, sweaty college students from different departments cheering for their respective representatives; not a place you’d find someone like Louis in. The bright lights made his head throb, and the constant forced contact with strangers made him want to scratch at his own skin.
But he endured all of that for now. For you.
It was always worth it if it meant being present in all of your competitions.
Still, it was never enough. He found himself craving more than having to watch you from the sidelines, tucked behind rows of bodies.
He needed to be closer.
That night, Louis sat at his desk and opened his student portal, the screen casting a pale light across his hands. His schedule was clean and practical, already arranged to his liking.
Louis stared at it until his eyes burned, unblinking.
Then, as if his hands suddenly moved on their own, he changed it. One elective class, shifted.
He woke up early the next day, arriving at the class you two now shared before anyone else.
It wasn’t hard to tell where your seat was. It was practically collecting dust with how frequent its owner’s absence was. Since you were one of your team’s star players, you were almost always excused from your classes.
The chair beside it creaked softly under his weight. Now all he needed to do was wait.
Louis waited.
One day became two. Two days became weeks.
And still, the seat stayed empty.
“Swim star ditching class again for practice?” He’d hear some of your classmates crack jokes about your absence.
“Nothing new.”
It should have disappointed him—should have frustrated him that the main reason for his transfer wasn’t around. Instead, Louis felt relieved.
At least you weren’t around to see him staring at the empty seat with hearts in his eyes. Knowing that it was something that somewhat belonged to you, he couldn’t help but feel closer to you even with the lack of your actual presence.
It soothed him in a way.
When class was over and no one was around to bear witness, he would switch to your seat, running his fingers through the dusty surface. Leaving his mark.
The thought of you having sat in this same exact spot had him aching between his legs.
After making sure that the door was securely locked, he’d pull a piece of fabric out of his bag. It was one of your swim briefs that had recently gone missing. He went to hell and back obtaining it and now it was his most prized possession.
His fingers worked clumsily on his own waistband as he pulled them down enough to pool by his knees. His cock sprung free from the confines of his undergarments which was soon replaced with your own.
The hand holding the nylon fabric of your swim brief wraps around his shaft, rubbing his glistening tip to smear the fabric with his pre-cum. A strangled groan escaped him as he began to snap his hips forward, the friction of the fabric against the ridges of his cock making him croak out your name with need.
His hand trembled, thighs clenching, as he pumped and twisted the fabric down his shaft. “Fuuuck..” He draws out with a shaky breath, eyes glossy with lust.
He could only imagine how good the real deal would be. Could imagine how tightly your hole would flutter and clench around his size.
Louis tightened his grip and bucked his hips at a quicker pace as his imagination ran wild, imagining you bent over this chair with his cock buried deep inside of you and his hands leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers on your waist.
He shuddered as he reached his climax, spurts of cum connecting the tip of his dick with the fabric in his hand. His chest rose and fell frantically as he panted heavily, cheeks flushed red and a look of pure bliss.
He brought the cum-stained swim brief against his nose, catching a whiff of the faint scent of chlorine that stuck to the cloth. A scent that smelled uniquely you.
A ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs. He could get used to this.
But you were still a student which meant you’ll still have to attend the class; to be in the same room as him.
Heads turned the moment you walked in the next day; hair damp, bag slung over one shoulder. There was a faint scent of chlorine trailing after you.
Louis felt his pulse quicken, fast and hard against his ribcage. He had to put in extra effort not to show his excitement at the sight of you greeting your classmates like you naturally belonged there. He forced his attention away from your form, but still couldn’t help stealing glances in your direction.
After your small conversation, you finally drop onto your seat beside him, the empty chair finally filled after weeks of its owner’s absence.
Louis had to swallow the stupid, reflexive relief that rose in his throat, making his Adam's apple subtly bob.
He didn’t know what to do. Should he greet you? Would you find that weird?
Then you turned as he was in the middle of his panicked thoughts, looking directly at the new unfamiliar face.
“Hey,” you whispered, voice light and friendly as you decide to do the first move of introducing yourself. “I’m–”
“I know,” he said rather quickly, unconsciously cutting you off which made him flinch slightly. He didn’t mean to.
Shit. That was rude of him. Were you angry?
Instead you blinked then smiled which instantly filled him with relief.
“I’m not surprised,” you say, brimming with confidence but not in a way that came off narcissistic. It was still kind. Polite. “So what’s your name?”
“Louis,” he answered.
You asked if he was new. He nodded.
You joked about your seat collecting dust, and Louis silently watched your mouth move around the words, watched the way you smiled like humor was the easiest bridge you knew to building a connection.
He wanted to step onto that bridge. Yet he didn’t. Couldn’t.
Louis looked back down at his notebook before his eyes could betray him. He couldn’t look at you, not after the shameless acts he committed in that very seat of yours.
You began talking to him anyway.
It wasn’t strategic at first, just a natural instinct of yours to never shut up. You treated people like they were already your friends, like connection was something you tossed out with both hands and trusted the world to catch.
Louis hated it, yet also loved it.
You told him about your practices, your coach’s threats, the misery of being forced back into class. You complained about homework like it was personally offensive. You joked and smiled and leaned a little too close when you spoke.
Louis always responded briefly yet still polite.
He kept his words minimal, because if he gave you too much, he was afraid he’d get too comfortable and reveal the ugly truth of his obsession.
Louis had watched you compete more times than he’d watched his own reflection. He had learned your routines, your habits, the places you’d hang out in after practice, and the people you surrounded yourself with.
He had rooted for you in silence, never loud enough to be part of the crowd. He told himself that seeing and watching you from afar was enough.
Now you were right beside him, alive and breathing and real, and Louis had to sit very still each time so his body didn’t do something humiliating in your presence.
You were surprisingly quick to notice his guardedness.
People were normally drawn to you. Louis refusing to lean in made you curious in a way that bordered on irritation.
Like a fish refusing to take bait, so you decided to try harder.
Louis watched you drift behind him, failing horribly to stay undetected with how your larger figure towered over most students. Not like a creep, more like.. a curious cat. At least that’s what you told yourself.
You slid into the seat across from him at lunch, uninvited and smiling, like the spot had always been yours.
Louis’s eyes lifted. His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture tightened. He watched you shine your smile at him like a weapon.
A very effective one it seems.
The timid male eventually (was forced to) accept your lingering presence, allowing you to talk about your day and ask about his. You could sense that he was still tense every time you were near, but you learned to dance around it.
You’d been adored in loud, easy ways your whole life. Compared to the rest, Louis’s attention felt.. sharpened. Like it had edges that could cut through you easily.
It thrilled you in a way you couldn’t name.
So you started showing up more.
Sitting with him. Walking with him. Asking questions just to watch him answer. Laughing even when he didn’t laugh, because it made him look briefly confused, like he was trying to read through your intentions.
You followed him like a lost puppy. And the more Louis tried to keep his distance, the more your curiosity curled into something stickier.
If Louis could look at you and not reach, then you’d reach for him until he had no choice but to notice.
But the closer you got, the more anxious Louis became.
His thoughts spiralled.
Were you onto him? Were you getting close to him so you could beat him up later?
Things were going way too smoothly that he couldn’t help but think you had your suspicions on him.
But no, it was just you genuinely wanting to befriend him. To get him to finally look at you without that wary look of his.
At first, you told yourself that you simply took interest in him because of his guarded nature. But over time, you weren’t so sure anymore.
Your little collection started as a joke.
“You’re so photogenic,” you teased, snapping a picture of him with your phone.
Louis’s hand rose instinctively, palm angled to block the camera, but you caught his eyes in the frame anyway, sharp and startled.
“Delete that,” he said.
“No,” you grinned.
Then you dragged him into selfies, hooking an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the way his body went rigid in your arm, and snapped pictures with your grin and his restrained expression.
You printed them at home, gaslit yourself that you were simply keeping it as a memory of your newly acquired friend.
Then it escalated. Always subtle, never obvious.
You volunteered to throw away his trash like you were just being the typical helpful friend you were.
“Hey,” you’d say, collecting Louis’s empty drink bottle, his used napkin. “I got it.”
He’d blink, hesitant. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you’d insist, flashing a smile that made him stop questioning you.
At home, you rinsed the bottle carefully, smoothed the napkin flat, and tucked them away to the safety of your room.
It stopped being a joke.
You gave the pieces of him a place in your room. It started as a small box, then a drawer, and currently a shelf.
You find yourself questioning your new formed habit as you stare at the makeshift altar in your room. It was ridiculous. But It was… yours.
You told yourself you were just trying to understand him and that this was one of the ways you could get closer to him.
But in reality, you wanted to own the mystery that was Louis.
And that certain mystery watched you with knowing eyes.
Louis knew he should have questioned your intentions, should have asked you to stop before he ended up giving in to all the attention you were giving him.
Instead, he kept silent. A part of him wanted to see how far you’d go. He basked in your attention.
Then he was asked to be your tutor. Louis said yes without hesitation while you looked less pleased, but agreed nonetheless, because you had a coach to appease and a spot in your university's swim team to maintain.
Louis arrived right on time after you’ve both scheduled the session at your house. He placed his shoes neatly by the door and allowed himself to be led to your room where your desk was already set up with notebooks, highlighters, and a few snacks.
For a while, you two studied; actually studied. It was almost comically domestic to watch you two converse casually through the body mirror in your room.
You had placed a cloth over your altar of him, foolishly thinking that it would automatically make him back off. But then again, you were unaware of how Louis’s thoughts worked.
“I’ll get us drinks,” you said, and left the room. The door clicked shut and silence settled, leaving him alone in your room.
Louis’s body moved before he could stop it. He was just looking around. It was normal to be curious in a new environment.
His gaze slid to your covered shelf. It had been bothering him ever since he entered your room. What was so important that you had to cover it up?
He wanted to know, to see if there was a piece of you worth hoarding on that shelf.
Louis stood, steps quiet as he walked through the room. He carefully slid the cloth aside.
And there it was.
Printed photos of him arranged like an exhibition in a museum, a rinsed bottle he recognized, a flattened napkin, and crumpled wrappers that were smoothed out.
An altar. Of him.
Louis stared down at it, and the world around him narrowed, heat flooding in his chest. Not out of embarrassment nor anger.
It was something darker and sweeter.
The sound of glass breaking pierced through the silence which made Louis suddenly turn to see you frozen by the doorway of your bedroom, pieces of glass and a spilled drink by your feet.
All the color on your face was nowhere to be seen, pale and panicked.
“I can explain,” you said rather quickly, clearly horrified at the male’s discovery of your makeshift altar.
Louis quickly caught the tremble on your lower lip. You were embarrassed.. scared that he’d run away if you move even a single inch towards him.
“I..” You forced yourself to start, finally snapping out of your startled trance to crouch down and start picking up the broken pieces of glass by your feet. Anything to distract yourself from the male’s sharp gaze. “I didn’t mean to. It was supposed to be a joke.”
Your fingers picked at the glass, trembling, your eyes unfocused as you tried to chuckle, but it came out as a small whimper instead. Like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.
Louis watched your messy state, not used to seeing you so.. unravelled. You usually handled situations with ease using your charm; you’d grin, you’d laugh, anything to lighten the mood. But this was different, you were showing another side of vulnerability that you’d never shown before.
It was.. exhilarating.
The silence was thick.
Louis softly brushed the cloth back to its proper place, careful, respectful, like he was handling something sacred. He stepped in front of your crouched form and kneeled to your level, a hand darting out to stop you from picking up another piece of glass.
Every restraint he had forced upon himself snapped like a rope on its final straw.
Louis pulled your wrist with a strength you didn’t expect to come from someone like him. With feverish hunger, he crashed his lips against yours and wasted no time shoving himself past your lips.
You didn’t pull away, instead you quickly dropped the pieces of broken glass in your hand onto the space beside you and wrapped your arms around his waist, tilting your head slightly to the side to further deepen the kiss you two shared.
And for the first time, the feeling of being close to you wasn’t something he had to carefully plan or feel through material objects you owned.
It was something you gave him willingly.
